


So Me And You

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can tell by the steadiness of his breathing that he’s been asleep for a good forty minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Me And You

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to **effie214** for being an awesome sounding board. 
> 
> Title from Thompson Square's _That's So Me And You._

Sighing, she lets her tote bag slip off her shoulder, tosses her keys on the nearest table as the door slams shut behind her. Her pony tail is pulled free a second later, her eyes slipping shut. 

It’s been a long day.

Longer than she’d anticipated, her last business meeting running over an hour long, forcing her to wave him on ahead without her when all she’d wanted to do was slip into her coat, lean into his touch as he asked about the conference with Sheraton and—

Blinking, she rolls her shoulders, begins making her way to the kitchen. 

She’s sure, if nothing else, there’s a glass of Syrah and a _how many times do I have to offer to swing through the window and rescue you..._ conversation waiting for her. 

It’s just what she needs right now, the familiarity of home—of him—easing everything else from her thoug—

She skids to a stop, brow furrowing slightly as she surveys the scene in front of her. 

The baseball game plays softly in the background, a pile of folders (she laughs seeing Donagel—the meeting that has delayed their evening—on top of the stack) perched precariously on the edge of the table while Oliver sleeps on the couch. 

His back is to her, but she can tell by the steadiness of his breathing, the way his hand curls against her kitten covered blanket, that he’s been out for a good forty minutes. 

Her blanket. 

The one that they keep hidden under the bottom of shelf of the coffee table. 

Of all the blankets they have, he picks that one.

The one that the first time he saw it... 

Well, the word stunned comes to mind. 

They’d been ready to start marathoning _Orphan Black_ when, as often is the case, she’d gotten a chill and tugged her childhood blanket free from its hiding spot next to the couch. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t know her tendency to get cold at night. No, he was used to that, welcomed it when she burrowed into him at two a.m., her cold hands warming against his back. 

It’s just that this was the first time he’d seen this particular scrap of fabric dotted with kittens and puppies and his jaw had actually dropped. 

(The last time that had happened was when he’d found her in his office after work wearing nothing but his dress shirt and those heels he’d cursed her for at Thea’s charity auction.) 

Pulling the blanket up, she’d snuggled beneath it until it was almost under her nose, her legs stretched out across his lap as he stared at her. 

And stared at her. 

It went on for the longest time, laughter and something warmer warring in his eyes until he finally planted an amused kiss on her, his joy crashing against her lips as his fingers twisted in the soft cotton of the blanket and tugged her closer. 

And soon it had become a thing. 

He pretended to fight her for the beloved piece of fabric. 

Continually joked it was one loose thread away from disintegrating into thin air. 

He’d even hidden it the night of their first anniversary because _I have many, many other ways to make some heat tonight._

Smiling, she shakes her head. 

This is the first that he’s managed to actually steal it and she really should retaliate, go dig out the lucky Dodgers hat he won’t let her touch, but she wants— _needs_ —comfort after her day so instead she kicks her heels off and lowers herself to the couch, curling into him. 

He stirs then, his hand smoothing the worn cotton over her back as he kisses her cheek, tightens his arms around her to pull her even closer. Their eyes meet for a short moment, the corner of his mouth just tipping up, before she lets her head fall to his chest, his voice a whisper against her skin. 

“Welcome home.” 


End file.
